


Precious and Fragile Things

by wandering_yoshida



Category: SOMA (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:04:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10315961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_yoshida/pseuds/wandering_yoshida
Summary: Peter Strasky has a hard time when Terry Akers cuts contact.





	

Site Theta, August 15, 2103

„Terry, Terry, Terry, where are you? I need you. Where the fuck are you, Terry?”, he said to himself, as he smashed his fist into the keyboard with full force.

Ever since January 12, the pattern of Peter Strasky’s days was fairly simple. A day when he got to see Terry’s face, or just hear his voice, was a miracle. Not enough to last forever, but enough to give some strength to survive another day. Every single day they got to talk, Strasky completely forgot anything about any sort of Apocalypse or End of the World. None of that mattered. On days when he couldn’t see him, his stability quickly deteriorated, accompanied by depression and suicidal thoughts. The thoughts never really got far though.

Everyone had their own special ways to cope. Strohmeier took the mission upon himself to preserve whatever was left of humanity. Since June, Catherine Chun spent all her time with the mysterious Vivarium, to assimilate it into one of her earlier projects. Heather Wolchezk moved between Theta and Tau, tilting at windmills against the curious influence of WAU.

Peter Strasky’s coping mechanism was Terry Akers. At least, up until the silence.

But why? The last time they talked, Terry was his usual self. They were laughing and crying together, writing little notes on papers and showing them to the camera when the voice got distorted but the video feed stayed on. (Something that happened way too often since the LUMARs fell into disrepair.) Terry would sing, Peter would tell stories, and they would fall asleep. The world could burn for all they cared, but in their little universe of their own, everything was alright. Everything.

Then Cronstedt sent the email to Akers. Strohmeier believed that the Chief Factor of Delta might accept the „good news” from someone else. Boy, he was wrong. Terry Akers was definitely cut from a different cloth. When Strasky heard that they are relocating the Delta crew to Theta, he was happier than ever before. He couldn’t stop smiling all day, knowing that they will be together soon, that everything’s going to be so real, more real than ever before. But then, the news came: Wan, Goya, Krier comes, Akers stays.

For Strasky, it was like being struck by lightning. His arms got weak, hands shaking, feeling sick to the stomach. He locked himself up in Theta Dispatch and cried, unable to think of a single thing why any of this made sense. With the bad news, everything else that was left outside the bubble before, now came crashing down on Strasky. The End of the World, the hopelessness, trapped, with no way out. Earth died, WAU gone crazy. Leaks everywhere. But most of all, Akers.

„Fuck you, Terry, I love you! How could you do this? Why do you do this? You stubborn, fucking idiot! Your promised that we will be together. You promised that everything will be alright. You promised! Then stay and rot in Delta, you fuck!”

As soon as he said those words, the rage passed, and he hated himself for saying those words. Hated Pathos, hated the impact event, hated death and hopelessness, but most of all, he hated himself.

He slide one of the drawers of his desk open, and pulled out the little tool. Strasky got it from one of the Field Service Technicians, it was perfect for adjusting the frequencies manually on the comm system when the automatic control malfunctioned. But it was also good for something else, Strasky thought. Its metal blade, so shiny, so inviting. The veins on his left wrist were clearly visible as blood was running through them. He playfully put the blade to his wrist, and slowly moved it over his veins, just like he was caressing his own skin. The blade touched the skin for a moment, it was cold. Cold steel. He slowly pulled it over his wrist, scratching his skin a little bit. He imagined the blood slowly pouring out, just like structure gel from the walls. He imagined the pain going away, everything going dark and silent forever. His eyes were red and tears were flowing endlessly from them.

Then Catherine Chun came in the door.

„Strask, I… what are you doing? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” The tiny woman raised her voice unprecedentedly. Strasky looked up to her slowly, with a bitter and angry expression.

„This is none of your business, Cath, please, leave me alone. How did you get in?”

„I WON’T LET YOU KILL YOURSELF, STRASKY!” Catherine’s voice was strong and commanding.

„THEN STOP ME! YOU DON’T KNOW… YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!”

Of course she did. Catherine’s mind was immediately flooded with thoughts of Imogen Reed.

„I FUCKING DO! STOP THIS!” Strasky, in his anger, ran the blade into his arm, but he didn’t hit the veins. Blood started pouring our slowly. Catherine quickly ripped the tool out of Strasky’s hands and threw it across the room.

„Thank you”, whispered Strasky silently.

„You idiot… let me get you a bandage.” Cath walked to the nearest first aid box, pulled out a roll of bandage and some disinfectant wipes. She carefully treated the small wound.

„You won’t…”

„No, I won’t, Strask. Nobody will know.” Strasky’s face turned into a bitter, sad smile.

„I would hug you, but I know you hate that.” Catherine smiled awkwardly.

They never talked about this again, and Akers never called. A couple of days later, Strohmeier announced that they would reroute power in the comm system to concentrate on keeping in touch with Tau and Omicron. Delta was of no concern anymore.  
Strasky sent some emails though, but there was never a response. He wondered why. Maybe Akers was too ashamed to talk to him again, maybe Akers thought he betrayed Strasky. Maybe he did. Either way, the days after that were hell for Peter Strasky.  
On December 25, he sent his Christmas wishes to Terry. All the other emails showed up as „deleted” in the system, but that one did not. Maybe he was still there, still alive?

Then January 15, 2104 came, and Peter Strasky, again, felt a strange mixture of excitement and fear. What happened? Why now? He couldn’t afford to think about it, Maggie Komorebi’s diver team was dispatched to Delta immediately.

And that was not a wise move.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted under https://lightyear-distance.tumblr.com/post/151495725320/precious-and-fragile-things on October 8, 2016


End file.
